


Just Give Me a Reason

by AddyPlantagenet



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:59:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AddyPlantagenet/pseuds/AddyPlantagenet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Edward's funeral Anne chooses to get angry and fight for her marriage and her position. Rating upped for the latest chapter. Sexy times are not for the children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Phillipa Gregory, the great killer of historical fiction seems to have started out creating a dynamic female lead only to have her strength derive solely from her husband. Apparently fem-lit is beyond her as well. This fic is meant to have Anne show what she's got. She is the King Makers Daughter for the love of the sweet baby Jesus and she doesn't hang loose and wait to die. She fights like she was born and bred to do. Period.

                Anne was no stranger to pain. She’d buried, her father, her sister, aunts, uncles and all of her children. She’d survived being abandoned to the tender mercies of Edward of Lancaster, and she’d faced the derision and wrath of Elizabeth Woodville. She was no stranger to pain it was true but somehow… somehow watching Richard accept his niece’s hand at her sweet Ned’s funeral had struck her as unbearable. That had moved her beyond tears, beyond feeling, beyond everything. She stood in the middle of the room as he helped her undress.

Every time that he’d taken the time to tend to her personally when she’d lost a child, she’d felt his love in every touch, like a balm to the raw ache that seemed to sink into her bones. Now she could feel nothing. His fingertips brushed her skin as he eased her heavy black gown from her shoulders and there was no warmth to be found. The utter lack of anything made that ache ten times worse. Kept her eyes dry and her mind blurred. Dimly she realized that he’d led her to her bed, that he was helping her onto it, removing her shoes. She wanted to kick him. Scream and tear out her hair. Rip the damned bed apart and through its shards at his head. Instead she swung her legs underneath the pelts and covers and lay back as he covered her. She felt his hand cover hers.

“Oh my love, I am so sorry.” His voice was low and soft, his touch was gentle and warm against her hand as it had always been. The rage that it stirred helped her to find her voice, helped to melt the ice in her limbs.

“You may leave.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. To see the tenderness that she knew she’d find in his eyes, in his face. Knew that she’d want to claw it off with her bare hands like a savage.

“Anne?”

“You have done your duty. You may return to your throne.”

“Caring for you was never a duty. I don’t-” His voice broke off and she heard him take a breath. “You are… you are not yourself. Your grief is too near.”

“How did you kill them?”

“Kill who?”

“The Rivers boys that you had put in the Tower. Who did you send to do your dirty work?” She looked at him now, wanted to see the hurt cloud his grey eyes, making them almost black, see the disbelief on his face.

“What? I didn’t-” he was frozen.

“You turned her curse on us, you killed those boys and in doing so you killed ours.”

The tears that glittered in his eyes gave her some mollification. “You are raving.”

“Yes. The raving, twice cursed Queen. They could write songs about me.”

“Stop it.”

In that moment the unthinkable happened and her pain turned into a boiling seething rage that threatened to choke her. She could feel it sinking into her chest, heating her blood like a fever. “I need you leave.”

“Anne”

“ _Now_ Richard.”

He jerked back in shock at her sudden shout, his tortured, disbelieving eyes still burning into her hateful ones. She watched them turn opaque and his face fall blank as he moved away from her and left the room with measured steps, closing the door behind him. She let out a breath then, and spread out her fingers on her coverlet.

 *********************

 

              The following weeks saw them apart for the longest time since their marriage outside of war. He did not try to comfort her, understanding that she didn’t want it from him, and he did not come to her again. She in turn made a great show of deference to him, curtseying deeply whenever in his presence and calling him “my King” instead of his Christian name or ‘husband’. The first time she said it she saw his skin lose what little color it had. Watched him compose himself and then refuse to comment on it. She stayed in her rooms after then, and he sought her even less.

She watched him slip further and further away from her with every hour, with every hurt and all she could think was that in time he would leave her be for good. And she could sink into the blessed silence that awaited her. She could die and return to those who truly loved her.  She couldn’t care that she was hurting him past all bearing she couldn’t care if she was being cruel. All she could think was that he’d left her on the floor, before their son’s coffin and the entire court and held hands with his mistress.

A month later she received a note from him telling her that she was being missed at court. That she still needed to play her role as queen. She’d read the note and then thrown it into the fire before settling into a chair to gaze out the window at the rain. Her role as Queen. She laughed, a bitter hollow sound. Her ladies in waiting had looked over at her in surprise before returning to their duties, eager to leave her alone. Anne walked over to her chair by the window and sat down, gazing out at the setting sun.

Two hours later there was a knock on her door, and she heard Richard call her name. She drew in a deep breath but said nothing. A moment later the door opened and she turned her head to watch him enter. He wore a doublet of a deep dark grey, and his golden livery collar of roses and suns, with his boar pendant. Somehow it only made her angrier, watching him look the part of a King. When he saw that she was in her night gown and robe he paused.

“Why are you not dressed?”

“Because I am indisposed.”  She replied flatly, turning away to stare out the window again.

“I sent you a note asking you to attend banquet today.”

“I’ve had it. Why do you need me at banquet?”

“Because you are my wife.”

Her answering smile was almost hostile. “Ah, you still remember then.”

She watched his reflection walk up to her chair in the window. “I have never forgotten.”

“I find that very difficult to believe.”

“People have commented on your absence. They think that you are ailing.”

“You don’t need me at court. My role as Queen has been recast, I am simply retreating to the sidelines as the vanquished do.”

“Please stop this. You know why our niece is here.”

She gave him an ironic look. “I know what you’ve told me. But I think we both know the truth.”

“I want you to return to court.” His voice was harder now, devoid of the gentleness that he’d usually used with her. It made her bolder.

“I refuse.”

“You must.”

“ _Must.”_ She turned to face him rising out of her chair slowly, feeling her skin go hot and cold with shock and outrage. “You _dare_ to use that word with me. You who have broken every vow that you’ve ever made to me over ten years of marriage in a matter of _weeks_?”

“Anne-”

“I _must_ return to court to stand by your side while you parade that _slattern_ in front of me like the prize mare that you will mate once your old one has been appropriately disposed of.” She could feel the rage coursing through her, making her feel indomitable, making her feel whole.

“Anne this is madness.” His temper was spiking, and he was keeping it under control just barely. She wanted him to shout. To do anything but this damned _kindness_ that made her want to run him through.

“Is it madness? Is it? _Is it?_ ” she walked towards him slowly, her hands curling into fists. “I have stood by you, I have loved and supported you, I have only ever honored you. And now, now when I have nothing, when I need you most you go to her? My son, _our_ son lies in his grave and you turn to her. The entire court knows that my days are numbered, after all you were so very clever in procuring our dispensation after our wedding. It wouldn’t be difficult to arrange.”

“No one believes that.” He replied.

“They already whisper it behind my back.”

“Slander is not power.”

“Shame is!” She nearly screamed. How could he not see it? “You have shamed me in the worst possible way and still you don’t see it. You’ve made me into joke. You’ve made a laughingstock out of me, our marriage, our lost children, our entire life together. Every time you give her your smiles, every time you give her what is meant to be mine alone they see me as your great mistake. The barren wife with a graveyard for a womb who gave you ghosts for children.”

He closed his eyes, his face weary. “Stop it.”

Stop? She’d hardly begun. “It’s true. You must think it, you probably can’t help it.”

“I have never thought that of you.”

She snapped and felt her hands made contact with his chest, shoving him backward as his eyes flew open in shock. “It doesn’t matter what you think of me! It matters what you show them. They take their cue from you on what I am. You were meant to love me Richard,”

“I do love you!”

“You have broken my heart. You have made me nothing in the eyes of what was meant to be our kingdom!”

“It had to be done, I had no choice!”

Her hand came up of it’s own volition and delivered a stinging slap to his face that had his head snapping to the side. “You had every choice! Where is your loyalty? Where is your honor? Where is your love of _me?!”_ She could see nothing beyond the haze of rage and agony, as her fists pounded on his chest and shoulders with all her strength.

He withstood her blows at first and then he crushed her against him, holding her fast despite her writhes and shrieks of outrage. When he pulled away, his eyes were wet with frustration and desperate anger.

“What would you have me do?” he shouted shaking her sharply, his hands like steel bands around her upper arms. “All the snakes in England have come forth, Henry Tudor is ready to set sail, and the court is split in two. I have more enemies than allies and no friends. Do you think I want to hurt you? That I enjoy putting that look in your eyes?”

She stood in silence, dimly noting that this was the first time he had ever put his hands on her in a rage. She saw the moment he realized what he was doing as well. Saw his wrestle with himself before releasing her suddenly and walking over to her fireplace, bracing his hands against it.

“I am not the Duke of Gloucester anymore,” he continued in an even tone. “I do not have the luxury of indulging the feelings of myself or my loved ones. I cannot fight for you and me alone. I took the throne and now I must hazard all to keep it.  There is no room for pride, or for honor now. There is no room for what I want to do. All I know is that I must keep us safe.”

“You care about the throne more than me.” She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling all her rage melt away, leaving her cold down to her bones and exhausted.

“I have lost everything to it. I have lost my honor. I have betrayed my brother’s last wish, I have disinherited my nephews and nieces. My nephews who I swore to protect are missing, they are most likely dead and I have that on my conscience, for while I had no part in it, it was no doubt done with me in mind.”

“Those boys were not legitimate. There was no sin in keeping bastards from the throne.” Her voice was raw, and her throat was tight with encroaching tears.

“I cannot make peace with it. I swore to Edward to protect them. He trusted me to see them safe and I betrayed him. If I give up now, if I stop and do as you wish and I lose and I die and you are left to spend the rest of your days in the Tower of London what was that all for? What was the point of all of that if I cannot say that I did something worthwhile with what I have taken? Would you love a husband with no honor. A husband who couldn’t look himself in the eye for shame? Is that a man that you could stand with?”

“Are those my options?” she asked, wondering how long he’d seen himself thus. A man without honor. She wrapped her arms around herself tighter and walked towards him stopping at his side.

His laugh was harsh and sharp. A sound she’d never heard him make before now. “I never understood before why Edward drank so much. And now... Every time I close my eyes I can see him and he… I know I have betrayed him and he knows it.” When he turned to meet her eyes, his gaze was haunted and bleak. “If I give up this throne then I will have no peace. I will have sold my soul for nothing. I can only stay the course. I can only keep moving and see this through to the end. There is no other option, not unless I want you and I to live in a garden of weeds, if we live at all. But I… I cannot lose you. I need you with me, I don’t know who I am without you at my side. If I persist in this, will I lose you as well Anne, or have I lost you already?”

“You would give up your honor for me.”

“I have already lost it. But if you could love me without it, if you could love me as something other than what I am then yes, yes I would forsake it. I need you.”

“You said that you wouldn’t give up the throne.”

“I said I wouldn’t give it up for Tudor. But I only took the throne for your sake and for the sake of Edward. Edward is gone. I will not fight to keep something that would have no meaning without you by my side, not when you are the cost. There would be no purpose. Tell me.”

For the first time in months she saw the truth in his eyes. Saw that he meant every word that he said.  His response hadn’t been what she wanted to hear, but she was sure that he’d never been willing to cede more to anyone else. “So we are not the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. You cannot do what would make me happy. I cannot give you an heir. So we’d be giving up our happiness without the chance of a legacy.” The tears came now, hot and fast, rolling down her cheeks silently. “My father wanted me to be Queen. Either me or Isabel. But he did not say what it would cost me. That it would mean losing my honor at times. That it would make me rue the day I was born. If we have lost our honor, our son, our dignity, if we are not who we’ve been for over a decade then what remains?”

“What remains is my love for you. When I became King I gave England my body but my heart never left you and what I have done, for good or ill, everything I have done was for us. I never thought to make you doubt me. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t see what I was doing. You’ve always known me so well.”

“I’ve always believed that I did.”

“Shall I convene parliament then?”

She chewed on her lip, watching him, wondering. Half of her wanted to say yes. To test his loyalty. To make him crawl. But the rest… the rest knew that to do that with the intention of hurting him… to make him forsake himself just to watch him do it, that was something she could never have done, no matter how angry and bitter she was. That was something she could truly never forgive. “No.”

He nodded and turned back to the fire. “You think that I killed my nephews.”

She closed her eyes, against the quiet anguish in his voice. “No, I don’t.”

“You said-”

“I wanted to hurt you. I saw you with that girl, you took comfort from her and left me on the ground. At our son’s funeral you chose to be her lover and not my husband. The father of our child. I wanted to make you feel that void that I felt knowing that all you held dear was slipping away.”

“You believe that I would put you and all we are aside for a mere girl. You believe these things of me.”

“At court-”

“I don’t care what they think.” He said roughly, and she fell silent. “If it was the gossip itself making you angry alone then I would be less concerned. Do you believe that I would do that to you? Do you believe that I could?”

She wanted to assure him. Wanted to take that bleak look from his eyes. “I don’t know.”

Again she saw that bitter smile cross his face. “Then you really must have lost all faith in me. I have loved you my whole life. I couldn’t betray you with my heart. That you will have till death even if I have blundered things badly enough to lose yours.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that he could never lose her heart. That she would love him till doomsday, but she swallowed it back. “Carry out your plots then, but I will not attend court while she is there. And I will not share your bed while the court believes that you are bedding your niece.”

He looked over at her, his eyes shuttered again, and she knew he was bracing himself for the worst. “And what of us?”

“If I have your love, you have your wife.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

The letter from her mother arrived two days later just as Anne had finished her _toilette_. Her ladies twined golden ribbon into her braids as her blue eyes raced over her mother’s elegant script. In the years since she had come to Middleham, Anne Beauchamp had struck an accord of sorts with her daughter and son-in-law, even though she and Richard had never been easy in each other’s company. But now… now Anne wanted nothing more than to escape, to confide in her mother. To have someone give her some perspective who wasn’t obligated to tell her to obey her husband.

Determined to have her way, clutching the paper in her hand, she strode down the hallway to Richard’s study, nodding tersely at the courtiers who stopped to bow in deference to her as she passed. _As if I don’t know they snicker behind my back_. In the days since their argument little had changed. He didn’t seek her out and she stayed in her chambers, taking her meals in solitude, seeing only her ladies maids or Isabelle’s children. It had done much to assuage her anger, although she still hated the sight of Elizabeth like poison.

She paused when she passed Sir Francis Lovell who bowed deeply and kissed her hand.

“My Queen.”

“Sir Francis, you look rather harried.”

“The King, my dear friend, your husband,”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes thank you Sir Francis, I know who he is.”

He paused and smiled, shaking his head. “He has not eaten a full meal in three days. He says he’s not hungry and pores over his papers. And when I try to make him… well as you say, he’s your husband, you’ve known him longer than I have.”

“Indeed.” No doubt he’d received a stony stare and a hard silence for his trouble. Richard had a way of not arguing as a way of winning an argument. A habit that could make a saint drink. “Send down to the kitchens to have a full luncheon brought. I will speak to him.”

She reached the doors to his study and found them ajar, and her husband at his desk. He was at his desk, doublet unlaced, clearly exhausted, eyes red rimmed and bruised. His hair was in disarray, his fingers stained with ink, and the papers before him were all but falling off the desk. In the past she would walk over to him and rub his shoulders, drop a kiss in his unruly curls. Instead she stood before him with her arms folded across her stomach.

“Richard.” She said finally, when he didn’t acknowledge her.

His head snapped up in what could have been surprise and he blinked at her as if newly awoken. “Anne, what is it?”

“My mother has asked for permission to visit me at court.”

“Has she?” a sardonic eyebrow rose and he looked down at his quill, twirling it between his fingers.

“Yes, but I would not have her here. Not while _she_ is still running rampant at your pleasure.” He heaved an annoyed sigh and rubbed his forehead. “I have decided to visit her at Middleham instead.”

He looked up at her, his eyes wide and nearly panicked. “You are leaving me.”

“I am visiting my mother.” She replied evenly, as he rose to walk over to the fire behind him. “There is no reason for me to be here for your plots. You can shame me for your crown but you do not need me to be here to witness it do you?”

He let out another sigh, this one weary instead of irritated, and she watched his shoulders slump. She wanted to go to him, touch that shoulder, let him know he wasn’t alone. Instead she walked over to him and kept her hands to herself.

 “Sir Francis tells me that you are not eating.”

“Francis should keep his mouth shut.” Came his terse reply.

She fought against a small smile. “It is true then?”

“I am not hungry.” He replied turning to return to his desk. “And I have plots enough to deal with, without him sending you to mother me.” He sat and picked up what looked like a treaty.

 “You are no good to anyone half dead.” She snapped and then paused, offered up a silent prayer for patience. “I have ordered the kitchen to send your luncheon here. I will leave for Middleham within the hour. I should be back within a fortnight.”

“As you wish.” He replied softly.

 

* * * * * * * * * * *

 

To her mother’s credit, she waited a few days before broaching the difficult subject of Richard. They were finishing a simple dinner, when the Countess took a deep breath and began.

“Richard did not object to you leaving?” her tone was carefully blank

“Richard has other things to worry about.”

“I was so grieved, to hear of little Edward’s death, I know what it must have been like for you.”

“Yes it… it was a great blow to us. He was never a very strong child but he’d always fought through every illness even as an infant. I never thought that…” Anne paused and took a few steadying breaths, willing back the tight throat and the stinging eyes.

“How is Richard?” the Countess asked.

“He is…” Anne paused and considered lying, but it would have defeated the purpose of coming here at all. “to speak truth I know not. We have… we have drifted apart mother. I fear now that you were right all along. He does not love me. He never did. He wanted my fortune, and we had always been friendly enough so he married me.” She felt the tears coming again and this time she was unable to stop them.

The Countess rose swiftly and crossed to her taking her hands in a firm grip. “I…” she paused considered her words carefully. “You know that Richard and I have had our differences. I will not pretend that I like him. But over time even I had to admit my fault. He does love you Anne, he loves you very much.” She reached up and placed her hand on Anne’s cheek.

“Do you know what he has done?” she asked, pulling away and rising to her feet, walking over to the fireplace.

“The Rivers girl?”

“Yes.” She spun around to face her mother again, her eyes dry now. “The _Rivers_ girl. I cannot even… I never thought that he would be capable of hurting me this much. That he could see my heart breaking and do nothing about it. It is as if it means nothing to him.”

“Have you spoken to him of this?”

“Yes.” She let out a short laugh. “He says that it is a game to slander her and discredit Henry Tudor. To win support for his cause. He says that he does not love her, that he has no feelings for her in that way. He swears that he has not touched her.”

“But you don’t believe him?”

“If I lost his love it would hurt me, I would not take it well. But this is humiliation. Parading that girl in court, having her take my place at his side in front of every noble in the bloody land. Especially now that Edward is… is gone.” She swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat again and took another breath.  “They see me as the barren waste of a wife and her as his new chance. And he… all he sees is the crown. I have told him that while she is at court I will not attend. That he may plot and plan but he will do it without me.”

“Do you believe that he would discard you?”

“He says that he will not. I will have to wait and see. I… I do not think he intends to. Not now, but that may change.” She looked over at her mother and saw that her eyes fixed on her with a steady, thoughtful gaze. “Do you think I have acted wrongly?”

“I think that if you are fighting to keep your husband you’ll have a hard time doing it here.” She replied evenly.

“Fight for him?” Anne replied incredulously. He was the one in the wrong; _he_ should be fighting to keep _her_.

“You are a Neville.” The Countess rose to her feet. “Surely you’ve seen enough of political intrigue to see a game when it’s being played.”

“What?”

“It’s a clever move, even if it’s a ruthless one, her being his family and all.” She took a sip from her wine goblet before fixing her gaze on Anne again. “And you. Even if it wasn’t a game, you would step aside and let that slip of a girl take you husband and your position?”

“She has already taken it.” Anne cried.

“If Richard was capable of discarding you then he would have done it a long time ago. He would not have waited ten years, watching you fail to provide him more children. If he held you in such low esteem he would not confide in you as I know he does, or protect your interests as he has, despite all that has passed between you. I know you have lost your son, and I understand your grief, your shame, and your outrage, believe me I understand. But he has lost his son as well, a son that he had placed all his hopes on, a son that he loved just as deeply as you did. And he has lost his heir. His kingdom is in uproar with traitors coming out of every corner and his heir is dead. Now for his part I think it makes him need you more than ever, but you have abandoned him and there is a pretty girl with a fine mind who is trying to take your place.”

“You think I should watch him court her?”

“No. But you should be at his side in private if not in public. You may not agree with his means but he is not just fighting for his life, he is fighting for yours as well, for your livelihood, for your position.”

“That is what he told me.”

“If you want to be at his side when this is all over then you must stand by him now, give him what little strength you have to give. Show him that you will not be brushed aside, that you can be strong as well. He is grieving as much as you, he is human and he is at his weakest. If you abandon him, and she stays by his side, how much easier do you think it will be for her to steal his heart.”

Anne drew a sharp breath, feeling like she wanted to vomit, feeling her entire body go cold. Had she abandoned him as much as he had abandoned her?

 “Richard is no longer the Duke of Gloucester Anne, he is the King of England and it is a position that a man with such stainless and ingrained integrity will find difficult to cope with. Kings plot, love with irony and play games. Kings must be able to hurt the ones they love, and stand alone, always alone. They must be the constant. Richard has never been one to do any of those things. He needs someone. And if it will not be you then it will be her.”

Her chest felt heavy and tight. Richard. Dear sweet Richard. She had pushed him to take the ultimate prize, seeing only her wish to be Queen. And now, when the dream gave way to reality, she had forgotten who she married in a mad need to punish her enemies.  When he’d become the ruthless leader she’d driven him to be, she’d accused and walked away, leaving him to face his fears, grief and growing unease alone. “I am a fool.”

“No.” The Countess walked over to her now, took her shoulders into her hands. “You are a mother grieving for her son, a woman grieving for her honor, and a wife grieving for her husband. I am happy to have you here. Stay for a day or two more, regain your strength and then get back there and take back what is yours. Show that girl what a true queen looks like.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I decided to use PGregasaurus' version of Antony Woodville, even though he seemed like more of a combination of Francis Lovell and Will Hastings than anything else. Mostly that was because I feel like PGregasaurus' Lady Anne Macbeth made deliberate choices to sort of alienate Richard from Antony despite the fact that he was one of the few Richard would have needed on hand to ensure peace in England. Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LUUUUURVE!!! And the awesome reviews! You are all amazing!

When Anne arrived in London, she knew something was wrong when she saw Sir Francis Lovell coming to greet her in the courtyard.

“Sir Francis.”

“My Queen.”

“You seem very eager.”  
“To speak truth I was going to write to you if you were absent for much longer.”

“To what purpose?”

“It is Richard.”

“What is it now?”

“I am worried for him. He is not himself.”

“What, has he stopped eating again?”

“He is going to run himself aground if he continues as he has.”

“What is the issue?

“It is Tudor. It is Stanley and the lack of certainty. It is the thinning list of allies and the growing list of enemies. It is… forgive me for saying it, but the loss of the Prince of Wales.”

“I will go to him.”

“If anyone can reach him it is you. I… I hope that you do not think me presumptuous.”

“Not at all Sir Francis. It is heartening to see that in the face of so much betrayal he still has friends who love him.”

“He is my king, but he was my friend first.”

 

***********

 

She waited till nighttime, using the time to prepare by taking a long bath and organizing her thoughts. As she changed into her nightgown and robe, she considered how to handle him carefully. He didn’t respond to coddling very well in most cases, but taking a hardline could defeat the purpose of relaxing him long enough to make him rest. In the end she decided that firm persuasion and frankness would work best. To that effect she brushed out her fawn colored hair until it fell in burnished, silken waves about her shoulders, and dabbed oil of violets at her neck and wrists. He’d always loved to take her hair down and run his fingers through the soft curls. Perhaps if she could distract him long enough, she could pull him away.

Richard was still working when she finally entered his chambers, but he was a far cry from the composed man she’d married. His hair was more disheveled than usual sticking up in random curls, his doublet was thrown on the floor and his shirt was untucked. The documents that she remembered from a few weeks ago were still there and he was still pouring over them like a mad man. The wine decanter at his side was half full with a full goblet of wine sitting forgotten beside it.

“Richard.”  
His head snapped up again, his eyes wide. “Anne. When did you return?”

“Today.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and walked over to him, leaning over slightly to look over the papers. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“What?” he shook his head sharply and looked away from the golden brown ringlets swirling down her back.   “No.”

“Good, I sent for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry Anne.”

“Good, I won’t have to share.”

He took a steadying breath and then returned to his papers.

“You look terrible.”

“Thank you.” He replied evenly.

“You’ve not been sleeping.”

“You and Francis again.”

“I don’t need him to tell me what I can see with my own two eyes. You are pale, your eyes are  bruised and shadowed, you are losing weight. Is this part of your plan to defeat Tudor as well?”

He buried his face in his hands and heaved a heavy sigh before rubbing at his eyes. “How is your mother, Anne?”

She rolled her eyes but answered. “She is well. She sent her condolences over our loss.”

“How kind of her.” His tone was dry as dust.

“You know she loved him. As much as you hate her you cannot deny her that.”

“I do not hate your mother.” He drank from the goblet that he seemed to have suddenly remembered. “I simply do not care for her. At all.”

Anne fought back a smile as a knock sounded on the door. “Come.” She turned to see a group of servants bring in an array of meats, cheeses and fresh bread, with fresh fruit. She watched as Richard rose to splash cold water on his face and dry it with toweling. He was a stubborn animal, but he was no more so than she was and she had righteous fury on her side.

“Are you sure you won’t have anything?”

“Anne,” the toweling did nothing to mute the annoyance contained in that single word.

“There is roasted lamb. You love roasted lamb.”

She heard a choked noise, saw his shoulders begin to shake and for one horrid moment she thought he was crying. Then he lifted his head, his eyes sparkling with laughter. “You will not stop until I eat something will you?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” She replied evenly as she seated herself, and he shook his head, letting out a short sigh.

“Heaven give me strength.” He muttered

“Mmmm, and me patience.”

He gave her a long, silent look before joining her at the table and shaking out his napkin. She pursed her mouth against a smile and began to slice the wheel of rich cheese while he started on the leg of lamb. It didn’t escape her notice, the ease with which they’d fallen into their old routines. He knew precisely how thinly she like her meat sliced, and she knew that he wanted to be able to pick up his cheese with his knife. It wasn’t long before it became apparent that he hadn’t eaten in a while. Within minutes he was moving through his plate like a beggar. She said nothing, simply began to slice more cheese and moved the loaf of bread closer to him. Suddenly he paused and gave a sharp hiss of pain.

“What is it?” she asked, alarm chilling her skin.  
“There’s a pain in my gut.” He replied tightly closing his eyes for a moment.

She wanted to go to him, take hold of his hand, but instead she waited watching him closely until he finally relaxed rubbing his stomach. “How long has it been since you ate?”

“I do not know.”

She did not respond to that, choosing instead to refill his cup. “What are you working on?

“Battle plans.”

“Tudor?”

“Tudor.”

“Is it so dire that you cannot sleep?” she asked deftly removing the skin from an apple.

“I cannot sleep so I try to make myself useful by working.” He replied, leaning his head onto his fist. “God, Anne, I have never failed at anything the way I’ve failed at this. Everything I was meant to do, those I was meant to reconcile, people I thought I could trust. Everything is a shambles. I feel like the biggest fool but I can’t stop. There’s so much to be done and I don’t know if I can even trust the judgments I’ve made. Every single one on the past year has been utterly wrong.”

“That is not true.”

“It is.” His tone was sharp.

She looked up at him and he took a steadying breath, closing his eyes for a moment to reign in his temper.

“I can admit to it, I’m not afraid. People have died based on my judgments, on my orders, and at the time I believed them to be right, but now.” His fingers curled about his goblet while his gaze fixed on a spot on the table.  “There is blood on my hands and I don’t know if I can make a good account of all of it. I have to keep going. I know that I can’t afford to stop but I fear that don’t know what I’m doing.”

She thought of Antony Woodville and her mouth went dry. He was the one ally who would have proved more useful than any if he’d lived. He would have made Elizabeth see sense. He would have made sure that Richard knew the truth. She’d been sure to get rid of him. That confession was for another time. “I’m sure that you know more than you realize, you just need to get it out of your head. ” She sliced her apple into quarters, giving her stomach time to settle and began to eat them. “With Tudor’s invasion, what is the problem?”

“The problem is Stanley. I need his men. His and his brother’s. But one can never know where they stand until the last minute. I don’t know what my numbers are and until I know that my battle plans are half finished at best.”

Anne rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Lord Stanley. He professes loyalty while his wife manages to fund a rebellion against you.”

“He told me of those plans.”

“Of course he did. If she failed and he was seen to be aiding her, he would stand to lose everything and his only loyalty is to himself. He’d sell his son for gold. You cannot depend on the word of such a man.”

“I know that.”

“So then why is he even being considered?”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you win without him?”

“It depends. If Wales and the north come out for me then I can survive the loss of Stanley, but if I lose men in the North then I’ll need him.”

“The North will stay loyal.” Of that she had no doubt. Even if she had to campaign with him herself she’d see to it that they stood by him.

“You are very certain.”

“They have love of me, and I am at your side.” She replied moving a piece of lamb to her plate and cutting it into pieces. “They will stand with you, because to turn against you would mean turning against me. If Stanley is the factor we cannot plan for then cut him off. Remove him from the plans, and see where we are then.”

“Plan for the worst and hope for the best?”

“Exactly.” She sipped her wine. “Your strategy should hold with or without him.”

“Thank you for coming here. It is more than I deserve.”

She glanced up at him and felt a moment of alarm when she saw his eyes glistening with tears. She reached out to cover his hand with hers before she could stop herself. He closed his eyes on a quiet gasp before his fingers clasped hers almost too tightly. How on earth they had come to this. When had he turned into this creature of doubt, fear and loneliness? This man wasn’t the nineteen year old knight who had saved her from a life of isolation in a nunnery. He wasn’t the pillar of certainty that she’d known and relied on. This man was a stranger. She had never seen him like this. This man needed her more than the Duke of Gloucester ever had.

“You may be king of England now, but you were my husband first.” She said softly and he smiled weakly. “And while your behavior has been reprehensible, I am not innocent.”

“What inexcusable thing have you done?” he asked dryly,

“That is for another night.” She replied, giving his hand a squeeze before pulling it away.  
“How convenient.”

“You’ve done far too much work as it is. Now you must sleep.”

His eyes opened now and his face took on a more familiar expression. Exasperation. “Anne, I’ve told you-”

“You will make yourself ill. And then all the troops in the world will not save you or England. Come to bed Richard.” She rose and began blowing out the candles.

“I have to sort this as soon as possible.” He replied, rising to his feet.

“In the morning Tudor will still be in Brittany, Stanley will still be a turn coat and England will not have sunk into the sea. Sleep. Now.” She removed her robe before climbing into his bed. When she saw him still standing and staring at her she pursed her lips. “Now, Richard.”

“I’m still King of England you know.” He replied.

“If you want to remain King then you will obey me.”

His mouth twitched against a smile as he changed into his night shirt and joined her, rolling away from her onto his side, careful not to touch her. She knew that he was giving her the choice. But she also knew that he would have no rest curled up into a tight ball on the edge of the bed, thinking of all the reasons why he couldn’t touch her. She moved closer to him, wrapped her arm around his waist, and pressed her face into his back.

“Sleep now.”

She felt his hand take hers before his body went lax, exhaustion winning a short, halfhearted battle against pride.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So even though Anne is my guuuurl, to me (As P. Gregasauras wrote her at least) she played an active role in the deconstruction of her own marriage. So I wanted to write her owning up to what she did. Mature Rating is for this chapter and possibly other ones.

 

Anne made a point of sharing a glass of wine with Richard and sleeping beside him every night after that. She took her super either in his room or hers but at some point they ended up either in front the fire or at his desk drinking wine and discussing the politics of the impending war and their plans for the future.

 Slowly, bits of her Richard began to reemerge. He still wasn’t the calm and measured man she’d married but his eyes had lost their hollowness and the bruises around them were fading. He had snapped at her once during a discussion, but instead of growing hurt she’d stood her ground and stared him down. He’d rolled his eyes and poured more wine for her, but he’d ceded her point. More and more she was growing to realize that above all he’d needed her to stand her ground as much as he needed her to give him an objective point of view.

Within two weeks Elizabeth was gone. Anne had returned from her morning prayers to see only Cecily among her morning retinue. She’d noticed the redness in her niece’s eyes, along with the determined composure in her pale features.

“Where is your sister Cecily?”

“She has returned to our mother my Queen, by order of your husband the King.” She’d replied evenly, her eyes fixed on the ground. Anne had taken her hand and found a smile for her, even though her own thoughts had been scattered to the four winds, and her heart was full of conflicting emotions. She was relieved that the farce was over and that it truly had been just that. A wicked game to outwit a rival. She was fiercely glad that that child had been put in her place and returned to her witch of a mother. But she was honest enough to admit that she was worried as well.

Elizabeth, for all her actions, was not a wicked girl. Anne remembered the light haired, high spirited child that had always sought out Richard whenever he visited London. She had been innocent then, basking in the attentions of her favorite uncle, but something had changed since then. Somehow, Anne knew that her mother the witch had a role to play in her daughter’s incestuous fantasy. A good mother would have warned her daughter against the likely outcomes of such a union, not encouraged it. Now, in a bid to have her daughter on the throne Elizabeth had played a part in the ruining of her first born child. Anne knew that Richard, for all his plots, loved his brother’s children. She knew that he would not take it lightly, that he had compromised his niece. The time for petty revenge was over. If her marriage was to survive, then she would have to find a way to forgive her niece, and bridge the gap between the two of them herself. She would have to be the mother that Elizabeth Woodville had failed to be and the Queen that Richard needed.

Now she stood in her rooms while Cecily laced up one of her new gowns. It was made of a bright and vibrant blue velvet with a jeweled belt at her under bust and pearls sewn at the wrists in a floral design. Her hair was coiled and braided, with golden ribbons threaded into it. She fastened drop pearls at her ear lobes, placed her crown on her head and stared at her reflection, taking in her appearance. She hadn’t taken such care with herself in over a month. She was starting to feel more like herself. Not the Duchess of Gloucester or even Queen of England, but like her father’s daughter. A Neville.

She exited her rooms and walked toward the banquet hall. As she approached, she saw Richard standing just outside the doors. He wore a doublet of brocaded, dark grey silk, his crown, and his golden livery collar. He was as handsome as he’d always been, but he seemed more dear to her in that moment than he’d ever been.   
            “Richard.”

He turned his head and then froze with wide eyes as she approached him. “Anne.”

“Are you going in?” she paused before him, enjoying the way his eyes drank her in.

He didn’t speak, merely gave his head a sharp nod before turning to enter. He paused when she didn’t follow him and she watched him and waited. To his credit it didn’t take long for him to return and offer his hand to her before they moved into the banquet hall. He was attentive as he’d always been, serving her first, making sure to offer her the best of everything. Anne’s eyes moved over the faces of the courtiers, observing the ill-concealed shock on their faces at the sight of her at court, and at him treating her with such deference. Sir Francis and Brackenbury were the only ones who gave her a genuine smile, which she returned whole heartedly.

“It gladdens my heart to see you at court my Queen.” Sir Francis said raising his goblet to salute her.

“And mine your majesty.” Lord Stanley concurred quickly, raising his own goblet.

“To our Queen.” Richard said. She met his warm, piercing gaze and felt her entire body grow feverish, even as she dimly heard their guests offer their toasts to her health. All she saw was Richard looking at her with the devotion and passion that had been so lacking over the past year. _My Richard. Not her’s. Mine._

She felt his hand take hold of hers again, raising it to his mouth in a tender kiss that sent gooseflesh racing up her arms, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on hers. Was it that easy for him to win her? Was she so easily seduced with a toast, a searing gaze and a kiss? Eventually she looked away, nibbling on a mince pie and focusing her attention on the minstrels, while she struggled to regain her composure. All she wanted was to be alone with him. To confess her sins to him finally and allow them to begin again. She wanted a lifetime at his side with his eyes on her just like that. She wanted his gentle hands, his deep, calm voice and his steady nature. She wanted his lust, his passion, his impatience, his loyalty, his love and his respect. She wanted to carve her name into his heart with her nails.

In time the meal was ended and she rose to leave. He caught her arm, stopping her and the emotion that flashed across his face left her breathless.

“May I come to you tonight?” he whispered.

“Yes.” She replied breathlessly, barely recognizing her voice. He kissed the back of her hand again before allowing her to leave the hall. She felt his gaze branding her long after she knew she’d left his sight.

 ************

 

Anne went to her rooms and dismissed her ladies and maids, pulling down her hair impatiently. By the time she had finished, she heard the door open and close firmly. Before she turned around she knew that Richard was with her. Strangely, as she turned to face him she found herself wracked with nerves, not unlike their wedding night. He walked up to the bed and then paused watching her carefully.

“You looked beautiful tonight Anne.”

“Thank you.” She replied, before looking down at her trembling hands. She heard his footsteps, felt him take her cool hands in his own and press kisses into their palms.

“I’ve never seen this gown before.”

“I had some new ones made.”

He stoked the back of her hand, running his fingertips over her wedding band in a feather light caress. She felt him rest his hands on her shoulders, and she drew a deep breath before lifting her head to meet his dark eyes. The first kiss was tentative and gentle as if he were still asking for permission, but the moment that she felt his mouth touch hers she felt her blood run hot and within seconds her lips had parted beneath his and her hand had slip up over his chest to tangle in his soft dark curls. She felt his hands move over her hips and up her back lifting her against him, with a soft groan.

Too long. It had been too long since she’d tasted his mouth and felt his arms around her. Was it possible that she had forgotten how much they’d thrived on their desire for each other? How good it felt to have his mouth and body against hers, showing her without words how much she was adored?  She felt his hands fist in her hair as his mouth tore away from hers to press fervent kisses along her jaw and the line of her throat.

“Anne,” he whispered against her skin and she felt her entire body rise of its own accord to meet his words. “Oh God, Anne, I’ve missed you.”

She clutched his hair and brought him back to her mouth, before kissing him with all the greedy need she felt. All the desperation she’d felt when she thought he’d stopped wanting her like this, and that he would never touch her again. Then her hands were working fervently on the laces at the back of his doublet while he released her long enough to unbuckle his belt and remove the garment. He turned her around, his fingers nimbly unlacing her gown while his mouth rained kisses along her shoulder and neck.

Her head feel back against his chest with a whimper and a shiver as she felt his hands moving over her breasts and down over her stomach between her legs before finally helping her shrug off her gown. He picked her up as her gown hit the floor and placed her on the bed pulling off his boots. She waited, kneeling in the center of the bed her arms half raised in anticipation as he joined her. She pulled off his linen shirt and pressed a line of kisses along his collarbone, over his chest and up to his muscled neck. She loved the smooth texture and earthy taste of his skin. Loved how he shivered when her fingertips danced over him.

She’d felt so powerless and alone, so cold and unfulfilled, as if her entire life had been wasted and her hopes were a joke. She’d felt dead. Now she lay with him on top of her, savoring the weight of him as he tried to remove his trousers with one hand while he feasted on her skin, setting her nerve endings on fire. He rocked his hips against hers and she arched into him hoping for a small measure of relief. She used her hands and feet to shove his trousers down his legs and off the end of the bed, before flipping him over onto his back. He’d always loved having her above him, watching her revel in her own pleasure. She leaned down, stealing his breath with a series of deep kisses before moving over his jaw and down his neck to his chest. Her short nails scraped over his shoulders, as she ground down onto his erection. His hands were forceful, gripping her thighs and then her hips as he moved beneath her, groaning and gasping into her hair.

She felt his hands move between them to position himself at her center, before he arched his hips and sank into her fully. She gasped as wild fire raced over her body with every slide of his manhood inside her. When she sat up, bracing herself on his chest, she found his dark eyes fixed on her face, taking her in. She felt his hands moving up her body under her chemise to stroke her waist, her stomach and her breasts as she moved over and around him. She gasped bucking into his hands, her fingertips digging into his shoulders as her eyes fell closed again. Eager to feel him everywhere she reached down and pulled her chemise up over her head tossing it away carelessly. When she leaned down to kiss him again, his hands were more forceful, pulling her down to press her against him, nibbling on her lips. She could feel the glorious tension in her body rising, could feel all the pressure gathering between her legs where the feel of him was deliciously overwhelming even as she ached for more, for everything.

Suddenly he flipped her over, biting on her neck, one hand fisted in her hair and the other braced on the bed next to her, gripping the sheets as he thrust with renewed urgency. Anne fought to catch her breath as her legs came up to tighten around his waist, even as she clutched his shoulders pulling him deeper. She barely heard her euphoric cries as the tension in her snapped, arching her body as her eyes shut against the torturous pleasure. She felt when Richard buried his face in her neck with a guttural groan as his seed pulsed into her, his arms like steel bands clutching her close.

She turned her head and pressed a warm, wet kiss to the side of his neck, breathing him in. _No one_ she vowed fiercely, as she stroked his muscled back while he trembled against her, _No one is taking him from me._ His sweetness, his pleasure, his lust and devotion where _hers_ and no one else’s.

 

***********

 

Anne woke sometime later to the feel of Richard hands. In slow measured strokes he caressed her neck, back and arms, sometimes sinking into her hair to play with the silken locks, before starting over. His heart beat was a steady and strong rhythm against her palm, and her legs were tangled with his limp with divine exhaustion. He pressed his lips against the crown of her head in a trio of reverent kisses before tightening his hold on her momentarily. She pressed her nose into his chest, stretching out against his side and he responded by sliding his hands into her hair, cradling her head in his palms.

“You’ve not slept.” She muttered.

“No.” he replied softly. “I thought I‘d never hold you like this again.”

She silently traced an invisible pattern on his chest, as her eyes stung with tears.

“I was trying to remember the last time I’d made love to you. Then I thought that I’d forgotten because it had been months and that had to be wrong. Months without you, I don’t even know how that happened.”

“Everything was falling apart.”

“I didn’t come to you. I feel that I would have but I didn’t. I… I let it happen. Perhaps I didn’t do it consciously but I pulled away from you. I don’t know why or how I could have let that happen. Forgive me.”

She pressed her face against the warm smooth skin on his chest again and let out a sigh, feeling that the peace that had lulled her was about to be shattered. “You’d have to forgive me first.”

“For what dearest?”

She took a deep breath and tilted her head back to stare into his confused eyes. “I… I was not a good wife.”

“Don’t say that.” He frowned, running one hand down her arm to join hers.

“I wanted to be Queen. I wanted it so much that I forced your hand.”

“The country was on the brink of a second civil war. Elizabeth forced my hand Anne not you.”

“Did I ever encourage you to speak to her? Did I ever even suggest it? I could have. I could have gone to see her myself, I could have done more than I did. She plotted in her sacred prison and I wanted to punish her. I wanted to punish her for her treatment of me. I wanted to see her crawl. I saw that if the divide remained then eventually you’d have to act, to remove her completely. And you did.”

Richard’s hand had stilled on her back, even though it remained on her skin. “What are you saying?”

“I used you to become Queen so I could punish my enemies. I… I wanted you to take the crown and I made sure that you felt it was your only option.”

“It was my only option Anne.”

“I… I should have encouraged you to speak to Antony Woodville.  I should have done more to ensure harmony. But I didn’t. I took advantage of your trust. When you acted to bridge the gap to bring an end to the rift I hated it.” She felt her eyes fill with tears as disbelief flooded his face but she pushed on. “I lashed out at you because I wanted you to make her suffer, because I felt that you had betrayed me. I wasn’t trying to help you, I was taking my revenge. And that’s not even the worst of it.”

His eyes were blank now, and she sat up, covering herself with the blanket, giving herself time to find the courage to admit her greatest sin against him.

“I accused you of killing your nephews.”

He sat up at that, leaning against the headboard, all the while staring at her as if she were a stranger.

“But it was I that spoke to Brackenbry about them. I told him that I wanted them dead if it would keep us safe.”

“How could you?” the devastated bewilderment in his voice nearly broke her heart.

The tears came faster and she looked away from him. “All I could think was that I had to protect Edward and you and I. They were… they made us unsafe. I all but gave the order. Those two little boys.” She buried her face in her hands. “When you told me that they were missing I felt sick. I thought that I had killed them. And then I saw what they meant to you, how it affected you, and how it changed everything and I grew afraid. I didn’t want to lose you and I knew, I knew that if I told you what I’d done you’d never forgive me. Then the rumors started and I… I couldn’t look you in the eye. You thought that I believed you were guilty, and I let you think it, because I was too afraid to tell you the truth.”

“Oh Anne,”

“When you said that Elizabeth had cursed those who’d murdered her sons all I could think was that I’d killed our boy.”

“Anne,”

“And then you brought Lizzie to court and began to dote on her, and those horrible rumors started. And our boy died. Our Edward. I blamed you because I couldn’t bear to blame myself.”

“You know for sure that Brackenbry carried out the order?” his voice was soft and even.

“No. I was too terrified to ask. If he had I… I couldn’t live with myself. I couldn’t face you.” She glanced up at him and saw that his eyes were glistening with tears. Whether they were from disappointment, rage, hurt or all three she couldn’t tell. But she knew that he’d never looked at her that way before.

“I would never have thought you capable of this. I hear what you’re saying and I still cannot quite believe it. I cannot… I cannot conceive of it.”

“Oh Richard,” She broke into sobs, looking away from him. She’d hurt him deeper than Anthony Woodville and Buckingham ever had, more than his mother, his brother.

“All this time you watched me mourn them. Watched me tear myself apart over their deaths and said nothing. I don’t understand how you could do it. We watched them grow. They played with our Ned. I… I don’t understand how you could look at them and wish them dead.”

“I was afraid.”

“A boy of eleven.”

“He hated us, he’d had his mother pouring poison in his ear since he was a child. He would have come against us and he would have shown no mercy. I couldn’t see any other option.”

“I…” he shook his head and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I know. I just didn’t think I’d married a woman capable of ordering the deaths of children.”

Anne winced and wrapped her arms around her torso against a sudden chill.

“But then again I never thought I’d be able to betray my brother’s dying wish, or that I could take advantage of my niece and slander her good name when I’d have killed a man for less.” His tone was strangely devoid of feeling. He was staring at a point in the distance, his face blank as if he were in shock. Then he looked at her and she watched his expression shift into remorse. “I never believed that I could shame you and break your heart and tell myself that it was necessary.”

She took a deep breath, wondering how she could still hurt like this. “I cannot say how sorry I am, all I can do is hope that you could bring yourself to forgive me.”

“Forgive you.” he tilted his head, weighing the words. “I could do that. I could also fly into a rage and cast you aside. I could do many things. But the truth is we have both of us changed, and we have both done things that a year ago would have been impossible. This place… these crowns have warped us, but if we weaken now our enemies will tear us down like jackals. There is only one way and that is forward.” He took her hand in his and she felt hope stir within her heart, despite the tears now staining his cheeks. “I will forgive you, because I love you, because you’ve admitted to your deeds when you didn’t have to, and because with all that has passed between us, despite all that you’ve confessed, I would rather have you at my side than anywhere else. I am nothing without you.”

She pressed her lips to the back of his hand in an earnest kiss. “You are my whole world. You gave me a life that I could only have dreamed of. I’ve never felt more loved than with you. You’ve been my champion, my solace and my protector. All I want is to be yours, and for you to be mine.”

“I have been yours since I was sixteen years old.” He replied with a wry smile.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

His smile faded and his gaze dropped to their joined hands. “We try to rest. Tomorrow we will summon Brackenbry and ask him if he had a hand in the deaths of our nephews.”

She nodded and traced the back of his hand with her fingertips. He reached up and pulled her towards him, kissing her softly on the mouth. She touched his cheek, extending the kiss longer than he’d intended.

“Then we carry on.”


	5. Chapter 5

Anne had received the missive from Richard asking her to meet him just as she’d finished her morning toilette. The night before had been something out of her dreams, something she’d never hoped would happen again. She dismissed Cecily and her maids before heading for his rooms. She pushed open the door and paused upon seeing Brackenbury standing beside Richard. He bowed upon seeing her, and Richard rose and held out his hand.  
           

            “Anne,” he waited until she crossed over to him and took her hand in his. “I called Sir Brackenbury here, about the matter we discussed last night.”

            She drew in a sharp breath and tightened her grip on his hand. “Yes.”

            Richard turned his attention to Brackenbury who was watching them with caution. “Sir Brackenbury, my wife informed me that she made a request to you with regards my two nephews.”

            Realization flooded his face as his eyes flicked between the two of them. “Aye, my King. Forgive me for not making you aware.”

            “It is no matter Brackenbury, that is not the reason we have asked you here. We wanted to know if you carried out that order.”

            “If I harmed the Princes?”

            “Yes.”

            “No majesty.” He replied after a moment.

            Anne released the breath that she’d been holding and walked over to face the fireplace, wrapping her arms around herself. The relief that gripped her was almost painful.

            “I knew that you wouldn’t want it. And if I believed the Queen truly had the heart for it, I would have come to you.”

            Anne closed her eyes, feeling hot tears rolling down her face. She hadn’t killed her child. Her sweet, poor Ned hadn’t died due to her rash actions.

            “Thank you Brackenbury. For your loyalty and for you discretion.” Richard’s voice was low and sincere. There was silence and then she heard the door open and close. Moments later she felt Richard’s hands close around her arms. She turned to bury her face in his chest and his arms came around her like bands of steel. She felt his lips pressed against her hair, his breath wafting against her scalp as he rocked her back and forth.

            “Richard.” She whispered and his hands rubbed up and down her back.

            “I know love, I know.”

            “Oh God.” She felt her heart break all over again as she sobbed against his chest.  Months of terror, guilt and shame seemed to flow out of her and onto his doublet. Her folded arms came around him, her fingers digging into his back. She felt like his arms were the only thing holding her together, the only thing preventing her from breaking apart.  She clutched him close, believing that if she held him tight enough the heat of him would thaw the cold, hollow void inside her.

            “Shhh love,” He kissed her head again, sinking his hand into her hair. 

            “Our boy,”

            “Shhhh, I know.”

            He rocked her until her tears had run dry leaving her exhausted and aching, then he led her over to his chair and sat, pulling her into his lap.  She blew he nose with his handkerchief and wiped her face before laying her head on his shoulder, pressing her face into his neck as he continued his gentle caresses.

            “So you are absolved.” His voice was soft and peculiarly light.

            “Yes.”

            “We must start again. We cannot have secrets between us.”

            “No.”

            “Anne,”

            She felt him shift and she angled her head so that she could meet his warm, grey eyes.

            “I love you.”

            She smiled and touched his face. “And I love you.”

            He nodded then leaned down and kissed her deeply, with all the tenderness that he knew she needed. She sighed when he rested his brow against hers, linking their fingers together. “Now to the other business.”           

            “What business is that?”

            “That impudent child thinking to make himself king of my realm.”       

            “Ah, that one.”

            He lifted his head and stared down at her. “We have received news that he is preparing to leave Harfleur. I must leave to raise troops to meet him. I want you to go to Beverly Minster and seek sanctuary there.”

            “I am riding with you.” She replied bracing herself for the struggle that would erupt.

            “You…” he paused and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and no doubt praying for patience. “You are going to Beverly Minster.”

            “After I have toured with you, I will go to Beverly.”

            He stood and she slid off his lap, watching as he poured wine into a goblet and drained it within seconds. “Anne,”

            “Richard.” She folded her arms across her torso and met his eyes evenly.

            His jaw was tight, a single muscle in it twitching. She knew what he was thinking. That he didn’t want her riding for so long or risking her health. That he wanted her safe. She didn’t know how to explain to him what she’d been feeling, the past few days.

            “I will ride out with you. I will meet our subjects and I will be there when they join you. And after they have assembled I will ride to Beverly and wait for news of your victory.”

            “You ask for too much.”

            “I am not asking. I am demanding my place as your wife and as your Queen.” She crossed over to him and took his clenched hands into her own. “We had a double coronation my love. This is our crown. It is our throne.”

            “It is too dangerous.”

            “I risk no more than you do. Let them see us united, let them see me at your side. Let them see that you are not the only one willing to fight for what is ours.”

            He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head looking away from her. She fought back a smile of victory and waited for his consent. Whenever he couldn’t meet her eyes in an argument, it meant that she was winning.

            “You swear to me that you will stay at the cathedral.”

            “Yes. I only want to be there when you raise the troops.”

            “The march will be slow and hard. You will wrap up warm. Take every precaution.”

            “I am not an idiot Richard.”

            He began to reply and then stopped, shaking his head again. “Forgive a husband for fretting over his wife.”

            “If you can forgive a wife for making him fret.” She replied with a smile. 

He laughed and then pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair with a groan. “You will make me old before my time.”

            “That is my privilege.” She replied, breathing in his scent of sandalwood and cedar. “When do we leave on tour?”

            “Three days.”

 

***********

 

           The day they left the sun shone high and bright. In deference to Richard’s anxiety, Anne rode in a litter with her ladies maids, covered with pelts for the majority of the journey to Leicester.  The last day however she mounted her bay mare and rode beside him. It was cold, but Anne barely felt it with the energy flowing through her veins. In the three days before they left she had commissioned a breast plate for herself, with Richard’s emblem of the white boar and the white rose _en soleil_ emblazoned on the front of it. He had taken one look at her when she joined him at the horses and laughed, taking her hand in his and commenting that he’d married an Amazon. 

           She felt like an Amazon, in her woolen gown dyed in the blue of York and a heavy, white, fur lined cloak that was strapped across her torso and around her waist. Her hair was pulled back from her face and left to flow freely down her back in curls. She would be his living breathing icon, the embodiment of his house at arms. The troops had taken one look at her and let out a mighty cheer that filled her with pride as she rode past them.  Once the royal army reached Ambion Hill, the troops set up camp and Anne prepared to continue her journey north to Beverly Minster.

           That night she and Richard spoke very little to each other. Everything was communicated by touch. After dismissing their servants he’d drawn her close and proceeded to make love to her with devastating thoroughness. She felt his gaze piercing her soul even as he moved within her, clutching her tight to him. She couldn’t stop touching him, didn’t want to lose the feeling of him inside her until absolutely necessary.  She wanted to remember every detail, every sensation of his skin against hers, of his taste and smell in case this was the last time. In case some accursed man took him from her forever.

           Even after they had both exhausted themselves, he stayed above her, buried at deep within her as possible. His mouth played over hers slowly and deeply as her fingers trailed over his shoulders and arms, tangling in his hair, tracing his face.

           The more time that passed she felt the surety that had taken root within her fade away, and the anxiety that had stayed dormant now sprang forth as tears leaked from her eyes, soaking into her hair.

            He paused in his kisses and stared at her, stroking her temple tenderly. “Anne?”

            “I hate that I can’t be with you. I’m afraid Richard.”

            He pressed his brow against hers and sighed. “I know.”

            “I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you. I’ve only just got you back.”

            He kissed her deeply and she clutched him tighter, twining her legs with his to pull him closer. “I have every intention to growing old and fat with you.”

            She smiled at that and he nuzzled her cheek.

            “Listening to you pester me, making love to you in the gardens.”

            She drew in a shaky breath, hoping to dispel the ache in her heart that his words had created.

            “You will not lose me here Anne.”

            She stared into his face, noting how calm he seemed, how the light from the candles flickered in his dark grey eyes. She had spent decades staring at that face, loving every line of it. “Promise me something.”

           “Anything,” he whispered against her neck.

           She closed her eyes against the feeling of his mouth and tongue drifting over her sensitive skin, and drew in a sharp gasp, fighting to maintain her thoughts. “Promise me that you won’t do anything reckless.”

           He buried his face in her hair and wrapped his arms around her before rolling onto his back and taking her with him. “You think I’d take stupid chances with so much at risk?”

           “I think that your pride could get the better of you.” She replied, relishing the feel of his hands stroking along her naked skin, down her back, over her legs, lingering at her waist. His mouth quirked in a wry smile but he didn't contradict her. “Swear to me that you won’t make a target of yourself to prove a point, swear it on our Ned’s grave.”

           His eyes met hers for a long moment, and she waited, fingering the silky dark, curls on his head.

           “I swear.” His voice was low and soft, but it rang with certainty and it warmed the cold fear in her heart. “If I die-”

            She shook her head and closed her eyes, “Do not speak of your death I cannot countenance it.”

           “You must. You know that you must. For me.”

           The tears rolled down her face hot and fast as her throat tightened almost unbearably. She hated the feeling of helplessness that was flooding her with every moment that drew him closer to battle.

           “I want you to go to my sister Margaret in Burgundy. I will leave orders with Sir Francis and you are to go with him to Burgundy.  I would not have you harm yourself. I would have you live, my love. Swear it on Ned’s grave.”

           “Now you ask for too much.”

            His arms tightened around her. “Swear it.”

           “I swear.” She whispered. When she opened her eyes, she saw the glint of tears in his. “There has been no one else for me my whole life.”

           He smiled softly and cupped her face in one of his hands. “Nor for me, my sweet Anne. You have always been the joy of my life.”

           She leaned forward and kissed him again feeling tears spill over her cheeks, before she laid her head on his chest and listened to the strong steady rhythm of his heart.


End file.
